


I'm Watching It Burn

by Crossroads_Blues



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Castiel is Protective of Dean Winchester, Castiel sees Dean's Soul, Dean is In Over His Head, Depressed Dean Winchester, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Hallucinating Dean Winchester, Hearing Voices, Hinted Thoughts Of Suicide (very minor only in two lines of chap 1), Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Michael Possessing Dean Winchester, Minor Injuries, Possession, Possession By Angel, Protective Sam Winchester, Scared Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 00:14:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20248978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crossroads_Blues/pseuds/Crossroads_Blues
Summary: Dean, Sam and Castiel are working on locating Michael after he fled Dean, while Dean is being haunted by insomnia and voices inside his head. He is not sure what to do about all of the nightmares and visions that he has and suspects that he is going crazy. Apart from the battle inside Dean’s head, there is also another battle that he must fight - against an archangel in the wild who wants to make the world burn.





	1. Mr. Brightside

**Author's Note:**

> Your author speaking!  
Firstly, I'd like to thank lovely Lou aka winchester-ofthe-lord for betaing, she helped me a lot to create this story!  
Also, thank you to my artist Ekka aka ekkaburst for arting! (art is coming)  
And, last but not least, thank you to SPN Trope Celebration and its lovely moderators for running the bang and making this a wonderful experience!  
Enjoy!

_ He stopped the Impala on the very edge of the cliff. Exhaled slowly, hands still shaking from the adrenaline rush.  _

_ “They tell me death is my drug,” muttered Dean under his breath to nobody but himself, “And I might as well chase it.” _

“Dean! You alright?” 

Dean flinched at the sound of his brother’s voice that had torn him out of his thoughts, and blinked slowly as the world around him flowed back into existence, pushing out the dim memory. “Yeah…” He cringed slightly at the pounding pain in his temples - Dean didn't remember the last time when he did  _ not  _ have a headache - and squeezing his eyes shut, he downed a cup of steaming black coffee.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” he muttered, crinkling his eyes and nose from the bitter burning taste. 

Sam stared at the older Winchester, unconvinced. He bit his lower lip and raised an eyebrow, skeptically scanning Dean from head to toes, while the latter one was examining the wall in front of him, undeniably finding something interesting in it. Exhaling loudly, clearly unsatisfied with what he was seeing, Sam collapsed on the chair opposite Dean, leaning forward on the table.

“When was the last time you had a good night’s sleep?” asked Sam, glancing at the numerous empty coffee cups stacked around Dean together with a pad of handwritten notes and an open laptop, “‘Cause you sure as hell didn't today.”

Dean turned around to look at Sam with raised eyebrows. “Since when are you in charge of my sleeping schedule?” he said, munching on a hastily thrown together sandwich that didn't look all that fresh.

“Since you're in this damn kitchen every time I go to sleep and you're here when I wake up and I myself hardly get my 6 hours,” Sam pushed forward, employing his ‘dad voice’. 

“Dean, we are concerned about you,” Castiel said hoarsely, walking into the kitchen.

“You're in on this, as well?” The older hunter raised his hands and glanced around. “What is this, an intervention?” Dean consumed the rest of the sandwich and wiped his hands on his pants.

Castiel exhaled irritatedly and sat on the chair near Dean. “Is this about Michael?”

Dean froze for the fraction of a second, but then furrowed his brows and shook his head. “Why would this be about Michael? Michael left, I'm fine. It's over. It’s been over since two weeks ago, when that son of a bitch smoked out of me.”

The younger hunter and the angel exchanged glances. “Dean, you know that if you have any problems, you can talk to us,” said Castiel, slightly leaning towards the hunter.

Dean stared at him for a couple of moments, then shook his head and started gathering all his notes and books in a pile. “If I had any problems-” the hunter paused and skillfully threw his phone in the air, where it made a flip and landed right in the middle of the pile of notebooks and books- “I would've told you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I, for one, actually have work to do and an archangel to track.” Dean gave Castiel and Sam a passive aggressive nod and, carrying the pile of books under his arm, the hunter left the kitchen.

Sam’s eyes followed him with a worried expression, while Castiel, with narrowed eyes and furrowed brows stared into nothingness, lost in thought. With an exhale, Sam turned around and looked at the angel.

“What is it, Cas?” asked the hunter, while reaching for a beer. 

The angel shook his head. “Probably nothing. It’s just…” Castiel cocked his head with a slight squint and gazed at the doorway through which Dean left. “Something changed about him. There is this… aura around him now that wasn’t there before. Something dark, like-“ the angel bit his lip, trying to find the right words- “this dark power that is just  _ there  _ and it’s inside him. Something’s wrong, Sam.” Castiel looked down at the floor and shook his head. “Something’s really wrong.”

_ The voices appeared primarily in the nightmares. Just screams. It was usually some random voices screaming, but sometimes Dean heard his own voice begging for help from inside of his head. _

Dean shut the door of his bedroom and leaned against it, exhaling loudly. “What the hell is wrong with me?” he muttered to himself, as he wiped sweat off his forehead. He inhaled slowly, closing his eyes. “I’m fine,” he mumbled, trying to calm himself down, “I’m good.” 

_ The hell you are,  _ a small voice inside his head replied.  _ When was the last time in last two weeks you slept more than two hours a day? Remember Sam and what happened to him, when he binged on insomnia? _

_ “ _ I’ll be fine,” repeated Dean in a hushed voice, “I always am.”

He gulped down the traitorous lump in his throat and dumped the pile of books on the bed. He, and the rest of inhabitants of the bunker to be fair, had made absolutely zero progress on locating Michael, and everyone started to give up a little bit. After all, the archangel kept quiet and hadn't surfaced for at least three weeks now. 

_ Means he's plotting something. And you're right in the middle of it, _ the voice informed him smugly. 

The hunter shook his head and exhaled loudly again, rubbing his temples. He needed to get out of the bunker. Without much thought, he grabbed the keys to Baby from his night table and opened the door with a bang. He needed to get out of here, before he could hurt anyone, himself included. 

As he hurriedly walked through the library, he noticed his younger brother sitting in front of the laptop and a few books on one of the tables.

“Dean, where are you going?” Sam raised his head from his laptop and stared at the other hunter.

“I, uh- Got something to do. Be back late, don't wait up for me.” Dean grabbed his jacket from the nearby armchair and started to walk upstairs. 

“Hey, you plan to be anywhere near Junction City?”

Dean furrowed his brows. He didn’t really decide where he was going. Might as well be of use. “I may be. What’s up in Junction City?” 

“A body. Police is squeamish about it, said something happened to the vic’s eyes. Oh, and get this, he had blisters all over him. Sound familiar?” asked Sam, raising his eyebrows.

“A burnt-out angel’s vessel.” Dean sighed. “Could be Michael, could be some random rogue angel doing some vessel-hopping.”

“Could be,” agreed Sam, “So? You’ll check it out, or should I send someone else?”

Dean hesitated for a second. “Nah, I got it. Heading in that direction anyway,” he lied.

“Okay, great.” Sam nodded. “Keep me posted.”

_ “Since when does Michael take up 90 percent of my thoughts?” Dean wondered and tried to write off his fear of the archangel as worry. _

“Agent Bohnam, I've never seen anything like it. Everything is weird about this case,” babbled the policeman, way over his head.

“Well, weird is my usual.” Dean gave him a tight-lipped smile and followed him into the morgue.

“And where did you find him, Sheriff?”

The chubby, bald man thought for a second. “In the old warehouse out of town. Teenagers climbed in there to hang out and found the body.”

Dean nodded. The policeman quickly shuffled forward and opened one of the metal shelves of the morgue and rolled out the body.

“We -uh, still haven't touched him at all, so he’s still dressed in whatever he was found in. Sorry if that's an issue,” the policeman babbled apologetically and unveiled the body. 

It looked disgusting. The face of the deceased - a middle-aged man with graying temples - was permanently stuck in an expression of agony, with red blisters peppered all over it. The worst part was the eyes, to be precise the lack thereof. Just two black holes. Dean couldn't make out whether they were still smoking or if that was just his imagination. And that's when Dean's heart stopped for a second. Poor fellow was dressed in an old fashioned suit. An eerily familiar old-fashioned suit.

“Michael…” exhaled Dean, gripping on the wall for support.

“Did you say something, Agent?” asked the policeman, switching his gaze over to Dean.

“No, no… This- uh, this is definitely interesting,” recovered Dean, “Mind if I snap a pic of him? For investigation purposes.”

The policeman shrugged. “Whatever you need, Agent.” Dean smiled and snapped a quick picture.

“What even could do something like this?” muttered the policeman, staring at the body.

“That's what I am here to find out,” lied Dean. He already knew what, or rather  _ who  _ did that to the victim. “I'll keep in touch, Sheriff.” Dean didn't bother to be overly polite and left the morgue without further interaction with anyone and no intention to ever return or actually keep in touch with the sheriff. He already got what he needed. Sighing deeply, he glanced around, squinting at the sun and got into the Impala, immediately rolling down the windows. He took out his phone and dialed Sam. After a couple of long buzzes, his brother picked up.

“Hi, Dean. Did you check out the corpse?” Sam asked him, slightly exhausted.

“It’s a burnt-out angel vessel, Sam,” Dean stated gravely into the phone, “Michael is burning out vessels.”

“You sure?” Sam’s muffled voice replied through the speakers. 

“Dude, all the signs were there. The body had those blisters, like the ones Nick had back in 2010. And the eyes, they were burnt out. Just like the body in Nebraska. I'm sure that if I were to visit New Orleans in person I would find that the corpse there looks the same.”

He heard Sam’s sigh through the receiver. “I'll keep you posted if anything else turns up. What are you planning to do next?”

Dean exhaled. “I'm coming to the bunker. You want me to grab you anything on the way?”

“I'd appreciate a Caesar salad, to be honest.”

“You got it.” Dean hung up and leaned back, massaging his temples. A tiny voice in the back of his head reminded him that these people were dead because of him.

“They're dead because of  _ Michael, _ ” argued Dean aloud. 

_ Whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetie,  _ replied the voice.

Dean groaned quietly and banged on the steering wheel. He was getting so fed up with not only fighting the war with an archangel but also fighting a war inside his head.

“I am going nuts, aren’t I?” he whispered to himself, feeling his eyes fill up with tears. He gulped down the lump in his throat and furrowed his brows. He glanced at the rearview mirror and, tightly pressing his lips together, drove out of the parking lot and did his best to pretend he didn’t hear the voice in his head reply.

He’d been driving for around twenty minutes, loudly blasting Black Sabbath in order to fill his brain with music and to forget the rest, when he noticed a gas’n’sip. Remembering Sam’s request and feeling slight hunger himself, Dean pulled up near it and walked inside. He quickly scanned the shelves, grabbing a refrigerated plastic bowl with Caesar salad and a 6-pack of beer. Looking around the store he noticed a stand with pies.

“Yahtzee,” he whispered to himself and picked up a carton with apple pie. He eyed the pie for a couple of minutes and headed towards the cashier. Near the check-out he skimmed over the shelf with keychains, when the melodic voice of the brunette behind the cash register distracted him.

“There is no way out,” suddenly said the cashier.

Dean felt the blood in his veins freeze, as he gulped down. 

“I'm- I’m sorry?” He carefully set down the carton with pie, the caesar salad, as well as the six-pack on the counter and gazed at the young woman.

“There was a guy here yesterday and he described you - tall, dirty blond, wears a flannel, looks dark and pensive - and asked me to tell you that there is no way out, whatever that means,” she noted cheerfully and scanned the beer, the salad and the pie. “That’d be 10 dollars 23 cents.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Dean fished out a credit card out of the pocket of his utility jacket and handed it to the cashier. “By the way, the guy, what’d he look like?”

The girl shrugged. “Wore an old suit, kinda like those they got in ‘Some Like It Hot’.”

Dean’s heart stopped for a second as he took out his phone and with cold fingers he opened the picture of the corpse he snapped twenty minutes ago. He zoomed in on the suit, making sure to hide the head of the dead man.

“This suit?” he asked and felt a traitorous crack in his voice.

The cashier squinted and then nodded fiercely. “Yes, that suit.  _ Exactly  _ that suit. You know him?”

“Unfortunately. Hey, uh-“ Dean fished out a pen and hastily scribbled his number on the receipt- “anyone else shows up with cryptic messages for me, gimme a call, okay?” He slid the paper over to her.

The brunette nodded. “Sure hope they won’t. The dude was creepy.”

“Yeah, he was,” Dean said absent-mindedly and headed out of the store, his heart racing like a hundred devils. Michael was there and Michael knew Dean would come. Dean didn’t even know how the bastard knew that Dean would choose to go to that exact gas’n’sip, however, it was entirely possible that the archangel visited all convenience stores along the road and told every cashier the same thing.

And what did that even mean,  _ ‘There is no way out’ _ ? Dean bit his lower lip as he tried to figure out to what the archangel was referring to. Was it to the fact that there was no way out for Dean to escape being Michael’s vessel? Dean shuddered under the weight of the thought. Abruptly, his phone started to ring. Cursing silently, he tried to set the salad, pie and beer on the top of the Impala and not drop anything and grab the phone out of his pocket.

“Yes, Sam?” he answered a bit irritatedly. 

“You okay?” asked Sam, his voice clearly concerned.

Dean exhaled. “Yeah, yeah, sorry. Nearly dropped my crap because of the phone. What is it?”

Sam hesitated to reply. “Dean, I’m sorry. It  _ is  _ Michael.”

Dean felt his heart stop for a split second. “How do you know?”

“A body turned up in Colorado. I called Dave, asked him to check it out and apparently, before the dude dropped dead in an old suit with burned out eyes he’s been going round the town, asking people what they want. Didn’t kill anyone this time though. One guy he visited recalled asking him what’s his name. He said that it’s Michael.”

“Son of a bitch,” muttered Dean. 

“There’s something else. I put out a call to all hunters, asked them to keep me posted on any bodies with burned out eyes.” Sam stopped talking.

“And?” pressed on Dean.

“The reports flooded in from all over the country. He’s racking up a body count. 23 burned out vessels so far, counting the ones that we found. He’s jumping from vessel to vessel.”

Dean felt his blood rushing away from his face. “He can’t find one that will hold him,” he finished Sam’s thought.

“Yes,” replied his brother, even though the last sentence wasn’t a question. 

“Okay, I’m heading back to the bunker, I got something too.” Dean was about to hang up when Sam called out his name.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“We’ll stop him. Those people, they’re not on you. They’re on  _ him _ .”   
“I know.”

The phone vibrated, signaling the end of the call. Dean slid it back into his pocket and leaned on the car, staring into the gray sky above his head. He squinted slightly, furrowing his brows when he felt his eyes watering, and shook his head. He didn’t remember last time he felt so desperate.


	2. 50 Words For Murder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael takes actions, Winchesters' loved ones get hurt. Dean gets more and more tangled in the net of desperation in his head.

_ “He doesn’t sleep, Cas.” Dean slowly backed out of the kitchen upon hearing Sam’s words, unnoticed by his brother and the angel.  _

_ “I noticed,” the angel replied gruffly.  _

_ “Cas, we gotta do something. If we don’t- he- he- he’s gonna burn out,” hastily replied Sam, stuttering.  _

_ Either Castiel didn’t reply or Dean didn’t hear it.  _

“Bonjour y’all” Dean remarked sarcastically as he strolled into the hall of the bunker and dumped his duffel on the table.

As an acknowledgement of Dean's presence, Sam didn't raise his head, but instead his cup of coffee. Castiel mumbled something along the lines of “hello, Dean” and went back to reading a giant volume with a faint inscription on the side signaling that it was about “Archangels: Hierarchy Of Heaven”. Dean heavily set the beer and a carton with the salad in front of Sam. 

“Got your rabbit food,” he said and glanced over on the screen on the laptop, which displayed Sam’s email inbox with over 10 threads open. “What’s that?”

“Reports.” Sam sighed. “Like I said on the phone, I have hunters keeping tabs on the burnt out angel vessels. This is the stuff they sent me.” The younger WInchester narrowed his eyes. “By the way, you told me that you had something too.”

Dean hesitated. “Nah, I thought I did and then I didn’t,” he lied. He saw the way his brother furrowed his brows in concern, but chose to ignore it. If he told Sam and Castiel about the cashier, they would certainly become more worried about him, and them worrying about him was the last thing he wanted.

“Okay.” Sam was surprisingly quick to let him off the hook, which only cemented Dean’s suspicion that Sam was worrying about something else.

“Is there a case?” asked Dean. He shrugged and added, “I wouldn’t mind killing something.”

Sam sighed. “Tracy said there is a vamp nest about 2 hours away from here. Said she’d take care of it herself, but there are a lot of them and her partner is in the hospital so she wants me to delegate to someone. Are you up for chopping off some heads?”

“Definitely.” Dean was eager to jump on the opportunity. 

“I’ll come too,” faintly said Castiel, putting down his book. Dean and Sam looked at him with a question in their eyes: Castiel usually wasn’t one to join their hunts. “I think you humans call it cabin fever,” said the angel. No questions followed.

Dean knew that the case was ridiculously easy. Just a vamp nest. Something he’d done a thousand times. Yet during the entire time he, Sam and Cas spend inside the abandoned house deep in the woods, which the vampires chose as their nest, the older Winchester was on the edge. In every vampire’s eyes, in every mirror, every window and every doorway that got into his sidevision, he saw Michael. He saw that smug son of the bitch wearing him as a suit. He saw his own face smiling with an unnatural smile, the kind that sends shivers down our spine and makes you want to run as far away as possible. Dean tried to shake off the visions - probably an overdose of caffeine, he said to himself - but he couldn’t. Every time he caught sight of Michael, he froze. One time that nearly had a great cost. While Dean was distracted with a hallucination of Michael menacingly staring at him from the shattered mirror, a vamp managed to get an upper hand on Sam and nearly tore out a chunk of the latter’s neck. Thankfully Castiel managed to intervene just in time, but Dean couldn’t help but feel guilty. He also couldn’t help noticing the side eye Sam gave him while Castiel helped him to his feet. The look in his eyes was worried, but Dean couldn’t shake off the feeling that he saw some betrayed bitterness in his brother’s eyes. 

Chopping heads felt therapeutic. Dean counted about fifteen vamps in there, which was unusually a lot, but he brushed it off. One of the vampires, one of the stronger ones, kept on babbling about “being close to the big boss” and that the Winchesters “will pay in blood” for what they did to his nest. Dean told him to shut the hell up and cut off his head. While his words were slightly unnerving, Dean guessed that being a blood-thirsty monster doesn’t do wonders for mental health and brushed it off. After a silent drive home, during which the older Winchester kept catching Sam’s and Castiel’s worried glances, Dean retreated to the room and tried his damn best not to see Michael in his bathroom mirror.

_ (He failed.) _

* * *

“Hey Cas.” Sam lingered in the doorway of Castiel’s room.

The angel turned around, startled by the hunter. “Yeah?” He put the book he was reading aside and nodded, inviting Sam in.

Sam gave him a small smile and settled on the edge of the angel’s bed. “I wanted to talk. About Dean.”   
The angel frowned. “What about Dean?”

Sam hesitated. “You see what’s happening to him?”

Castiel tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “What are you getting at, Sam?”

“I wanted to ask you to take a look at his soul. He would never tell me what’s wrong, but I did some reading and apparently, an angel looking at a soul can identify the source of one’s suffering - for example like fear, anger or grief. I know that we shouldn’t do it without his consent but, man, I’m worried for him.” Sam exhaled loudly and let his arms hang loosely by his sides.

Castiel crossed his arms. “Sam, you know that would be wrong.”

“I promise to tell him about it tomorrow. But Cas, you saw how he was today. He needs help.”

Castiel sighed and closed his eyes for a second. “Only if you promise to tell him.”   
Sam nodded, “Deal.” 

They quietly walked up to Dean’s bedroom and entered as quietly as they could. The hunter was already asleep. Castiel slowly walked up to the bed and with a touch of two fingers to the forehead ensured that he wouldn’t wake up.

“If he is asleep, he won’t feel the pain that comes with me looking at his soul as much,” explained the angel in a hushed voice.

“It wouldn’t hurt him too much would it?” 

Castiel shook his head. “No, since I’m just taking a brief glance at the surface.” He set his palm on Dean’s forehead and closed his eyes.

“He’s- he’s so broken.” Castiel tried to make his grace as soft, as gentle as possible, but he could feel that he was hurting Dean nevertheless. “His soul, it’s covered in scars. I haven’t seen anything like it ever since…” Castiel hesitated for a second, glanced at Sam and continued, “Ever since your soul was ripped from Hell.”

Sam solemnly shook his head. “We got our issues,” he said laconically and fell silent, signaling the end of the conversation.

Castiel closed his eyes and felt his grace surge through every inch of Dean's soul, painting a precise picture of it in the angel's mind. Finally, Castiel raised his hand away from the hunter’s chest and gestured to Sam to leave the room.

Gently closing the door behind them, the angel and the hunter exchanged glances. “So, what did you see?” asked Sam, exhaling and rubbing the nape of his neck.

Castiel hesitated. “I- I, uh, I saw a crack in it. A human soul is a very durable and resilient matter, and I never could imagine that it was breakable, but whatever happened, or is happening to him made a fracture. It’s a very small one, almost unnoticeable, but it’s there. I presume that's the cause of his behaviour. And I don't wanna know what will happen to Dean if his soul breaks entirely. I don't want to know what he might become.”

* * *

  
  


Dean couldn’t help but notice Sam’s more concerned than usual look when he walked into the kitchen the next morning. 

“Mornin’,” he mumbled, bumping into a counter on his way to the coffee machine. His headache was a bitch and suffering from nightmares all the night before certainly didn’t help.

“Hey,” replied Sam, pretending to be extremely entertained by his cereal. 

Dean started brewing coffee but in the middle of the task he exhaled irritatedly and turned around to look at Sam with exasperation.

“This is crazy, what did I do? Did I piss you off or what?” Dean stared at Sam. The latter slowly let go of his spoon and raised his head to look at his brother.

“No, why would I be pissed at you?” said Sam with raised eyebrows and the corners of his mouth turned downwards.

“Really?” Dean furrowed his brows and loudly set his coffee cup opposite Sam, collapsing in the chair. “Cause for the last couple of weeks, you, Cas, frigging everyone in this frigging bunker been giving me the side look everytime I do anything! Anything I should be aware of?”   
Sam rolled his eyes. “No one has been giving you  _ the look _ , Dean. We are just-” the younger hunter hesitated, looking for the right word- “a tiny bit worried about you. It’s like you’re always on the edge of exploding.”   
Dean scoffed. “Whatever,” he mumbled, grabbed his coffee cup and headed towards the exit of the kitchen.

“Dean, wait!” Sam called out behind him.

The hunter turned around. “Yeah?”

Sam hesitated once again, biting his lower lip. “Dean- uh, please don’t be mad, I know I shouldn’t have done it without your permission-”

“What the hell did you do?” interrupted him Dean with a glare in his eyes.

Sam inhaled sharply. “I was getting really concerned about your behaviour and asked Cas to take a look at your soul last night while you were sleeping.”

Dean raised his arms in frustration, then let them fall along his sides, scoffing loudly. “Seriously, Sam? While I was sleeping? That’s a new low. Even for you. I thought we were clear on a ‘no secrets’ policy?

Sam stood up and walked closer towards Dean. “I know-” he apologetically raised his hands- “but hear me out. There is no easy way to say it, so I’m just gonna say it. Your soul has a break in it.”

Dean froze. “A what?”

“A crack. Like a fracture.” Sam collapsed in the chair.

“Hold up, hold up.” Dean narrowed his eyes. “Isn’t human soul supposed to be the strongest thing on Earth? Your soul was intact after 120 years in Hell, how come mine has a break in it? And I don’t feel any different.”

Sam shook his head. “I don’t know. Cas doesn’t know, he has never heard of anything like this. Have you experienced anything that might have lead to this?”   
Dean looked away for a second, remembering all the nightmares and the voices and  _ the pain.  _ But this couldn’t be enough to break a soul, right? 

“Well… I can’t sleep, Sam. And I see him sometimes.” Dean rubbed his temples and stared at Sam, who gave him a confused look.

“You see who?”

“Michael.” Dean sighed and walked back to the table, collapsing in the chair as soon as he reached it. Insomnia really started taking a toll on him. “More exactly I see myself possessed by Michael in that awful suit saying that this is my only destiny and there is no way out. ” He found himself to be repeating the words of the cashier at the gas’n’sip. “A couple days back, when I went to check out the body, I went to a gas’n’sip and the cashier there told me Michael was there the day before; and he asked her to tell me that there was no way out. I think that’s when it begun.”

Sam huffed loudly. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

Dean shrugged. “I thought this was nothing, I thought I just needed time to recover after being Michael’s bitch. And I wrote off the cashier as Michael just spooking me. I didn’t think this would be serious. And I didn’t want to worry you anymore than you already were. Look at you, you are freaking vibrating with caffeine.”

Sam tilted his head and pressed his lips together. “Dean, I don’t even know what to tell you. This is-”

He was interrupted by the ringing of the phone. Dean’s eyes darted to his mobile phone which lit up with a call from an unknown caller. He hesitated for a second and then swiped to pick up the call.

“Good morning, Dean,” a male voice said through the receiver.   
“Who is this?” off-handedly said Dean, putting the phone on speaker.

Sam gave the phone a side look and leaned back in his seat.

“Don’t recognise me?”

Dean froze. 

“Michael,” said Dean in a stone cold voice, feeling his hand settle on the angel blade. Sam furrowed his brows and glanced around the room.

Hoarse laughter blared through the phone’s speakers. “Yours truly.”

Dean felt his heartbeat halt for a split second. Interacting with Michael triggered something deep in him, a mix of instincts that screamed in his head to run, run as fast as he could and fear, primitive animal fear, something that Dean didn’t experience for a long time. He didn’t even know that he could feel that scared. Scared and hopeless.

“What do you want? Why surface now? I don’t expect you’ve missed seeing our pretty faces.” Dean’s voice traitorously broke in the middle of sentence.

“Just wanted to talk. Heard you killed one of my generals yesterday.” The voice was distorted by the static of the phone and that made it sound even more eerie.   
“The vamp?” asked Dean.

Sam leaned over, spoke right into his brother’s ear, so Michael wouldn’t hear him,“So that’s what he was babbling about.”

“That one.”

“Well he’s dead, what do you want us to do?” 

“Nothing.” Michael’s voice sounded macabre, sending chills down Dean’s spine. “You know, where I come from, there is an-eye-for-an-eye tradition. With that in mind, when was the last time you heard from Sheriff Mills?”

The sound of the phone hanging up echoed through the kitchen, as both Sam and Dean rushed to the garage.

_ The cacophony of voices in his head aligned pretty well with the chaotic rhythm of his heart. Life is ironic, one could say. _

“She doesn’t answer, Sam! SHE DOESN’T ANSWER!” yelled Dean and tossed his phone down on the floor of the car. 

Sam pressed his lips tighter together and pressed the gas harder.

”Dean exhaled loudly and ran his hand through his hair. Everything inside him was  _ screaming _ . He leaned back in his seat and tried to order the voices inside his head to  _ shut the hell up.  _ Nobody listened of course.

After 5 painful, silent hours of driving, during which Dean only briefly talked to Castiel on the phone, filling him in on the situation, Sam made a sharp turn and pulled into Jody’s driveway. Dean practically jumped out of the car, not even waiting for it to fully stop. He rushed up to the door. 

“Jody!” he yelled. Dean pounded on the locked door. 

Behind him Sam appeared, with his gun out. “Jody!” he shouted out as well to no result. He started to take out his lock picking tools, but Dean kicked down the door and rushed inside.

Inside, the house was eerily quiet. All lighting was on, but not a sound was heard. Dean motioned to Sam to follow him upstairs. As he entered the first bedroom, there was some movement and a muffled sound behind the turned upside down couch. Dean gestured to Sam to keep an eye on the door and took his gun off of safety and slowly walked around the couch, aiming the barrel of his gun in front of him. But there wasn’t any monsters or angels or serial killers behind the couch. Behind the couch was Jody, gagged and tied up, with a bloody eye and a cut across her brow, but  _ alive _ . 

Dean exhaled loudly in relief. “Jody!” He knelt down and freed her from the gag in her mouth. As soon as he did that, she started speaking rushingly. “Dean, it was this- this- this man. I was just having dinner and this man appeared and he raised his hand and flung me against the wall. Thank God the girls aren’t in the house, they’re at a concert in Iowa. I think it was an angel or a demon, but I’m not sure, I blacked out-”

“Shh.” Dean put his arm on her shoulder. “It’s okay, I got you.” He took out his swiss knife and cut through the ropes, freeing Jody. She hurriedly got back on her feet. Dean placed his arm around her, leading her out of the room, but they were distracted by a sound of a voice.

“Poor thing.” Dean and Jody turned around at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. It belonged to a man standing in the doorway. Sam, who was supposed to be guarding the said doorway was held up by an invisible force against it, clutching at his throat. The man was dressed in a suit and his eyes were glowing blue.

“Michael…” growled Dean. Beside him, Jody silently gasped. Dean quickly shoved her back behind the couch, pushing her down to the floor, so that she wasn’t a target for Michael.. 

“At your service.” The man flashed a smile and strutted forward.

“What did you do?” Dean’s voice sounded deep and… dark, as the hunter bared his angel blade.

Michael gestured towards the center of the room. “Nothing for now. Just wanted to show you what will happen in the future. You kill my friends, I kill yours.”   
“You won’t touch a hair on her head, you hear me?.” Dean stepped forward, holding his angel blade in front of him. 

Michael laughed. “Oh, I’m sure of it.” 

Dean didn’t hear anything else and rushed forward. Michael quickly dodged his initial attack and flung the hunter against the wall. Dean got back on his feet and swung the blade, slashing Michael’s arm. In response, Michael punched him and twisted Dean’s arm in an unnatural way. Bones cracked. Dean screamed.

“You can’t go against an archangel,” muttered Michael, kicking Dean down at the floor. The angel blade clattered across the floor a couple of meters, but Dean managed to dodge Michael’s punch and recover the blade and get back on his feet.

Dean replayed the next couple of minutes in slow motion over and over in his head for a long time and he couldn’t understand what went so wrong. In one moment he was standing near the wall, tightly gripping his angel blade, pointing it at Michael who was standing two meters away from him. As he charged forward at the archangel, he barely registered the latter’s smirk and heard Jody’s cry, as the archangel telekinetically dragged her from behind of the couch and with a slight movement of his hand flung her at Dean. More specifically, flung her at Dean’s bared blade. Dean’s mouth opened slightly as he stepped back and caught Jody, with the angel blade stuck in her abdomen.    
“Deal with that.” Michael’s voice echoed around the room and in the next moment, he wasn’t in the room anymore. 

Sam, now free of the invisible restraints, rushed to them. 

“Hey, hey, Jody, stay with me!” Dean frantically patted the woman’s cheeks, but she was not conscious anymore. Sam was already calling an ambulance.    
“No, no, no, no, no!” Dean muttered frantically, setting Jody down on the floor, examining her wound. He slouched above the woman, looking at her bloodied face.

_ This is your fault, Dean,  _ said the voice in his head in a somber tone _ , if she dies, that’s on you. Monster. _

“NO!”

_ Dean stared at his reflection in the mirror. The realisation hit him with the rush of cold air flowing into a hot room on a chilly day. He didn’t like the person staring back at him. _

The monotone beeping of the machines drove Dean nuts, but there was nothing he could do. He slouched in the armchair in Jody’s hospital room and sighed deeply. He didn’t feel anything. Just numbness. Dean didn’t know whether that was because of the break in his soul Sam had told him about or whether it was because he didn’t think he could take any more feelings. A plan was brewing in his head, a plan how to fix all of this, but he just couldn’t pinpoint it exactly, he was missing something.

“Hey Dean.” Sam walked into the room with two cups of coffee, tearing him out of his thoughts.

“Hey.” Dean absent-mindedly gave him a small wave.

“Doctor says she will recover.”

Dean gave him a nod. Sam shook his head in disbelief. “Dean, you didn’t do this to her. Please stop this- this- self-loathing or whatever this is.”

“Sam, stop trying to find justifications for me, cause there aren’t any!” suddenly snapped Dean and stood up. “Jody is in the hospital because of me!” Dean stepped back, letting light curtains fly over his face, almost like a barrier between him and Sam.

“Dean, I was there. What happened wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have foreseen Michael  _ doing that. _ ” Sam’s voice sounded shaky and weak.

“Don’t you get it?” Dean exhaled irritatedly. “It’s not just because of Jody. Michael won’t stop. He’ll kill people and he’ll make  _ me _ kill people and everyone who is around me is at risk. You should run, Sammy.” Dean’s eyes watered up. “You should get away from me. ‘Cause Michael will come for you if you don’t. Like he came for Jody.” Dean glanced at the unconscious woman, feeling his heart crack. Or was it his soul?

Sam slowly stepped up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’re my brother and I would never leave your side. So say what you wanna say, do what you wanna do, but know that if even if you leave right now, I will track you down and I will bring you home. And then we’ll face whatever life has in store for us. Together.”

Dean tilted his head downwards. “I’m sorry,” he muttered and charged forward, hitting Sam in the face. Sam slightly grunted, taken by surprise, but quickly recovered and dodged the punch Dean threw at him, however, Dean was quicker and managed to grab his brother by the shoulders and hold him against the wall.

“I don’t wanna hurt you, Sam, I just have to leave,” grunted Dean.

Sam exhaled loudly. “That’s not gonna happen.”   
Dean nodded. “I understand.” He swung a punch and knocked his brother out. Dean carefully caught his brother’s unconscious body and sat him against the wall. Sighing, Dean took out Sam’s phone out of a hidden pocket on his jacket and opened up Castiel’s contact in the messages. “ASAP come to Sioux Falls General Hospital, room 24,” he typed and hit send. Dean groaned as he bent down and put the phone back into Sam’s pocket. He picked up his duffle and, giving Sam one last look, left the room, shutting the door behind him.

“Can’t save myself, at least I’ll try to save you,” he muttered on his way out. Dean knew exactly what to do.


	3. Spite And Fury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final showdown.

Dean signed and got out of the Impala, inhaling deeply, the air still moist from the rain and smelling of wet asphalt and rubber. He glanced above at the huge neon sign of the skyscraper he was standing near. ‘Hotel Lizania’. He fixed the sleeves of his FBI jacket, exhaled and strode to the entrance. He wanted to pick something that was very different from what he’d normally choose to hopefully throw Sam and Castiel off his trail and one of the most prestigious hotels in the area seemed like an obvious choice. It wasn’t his money that he will be paying for the rooms anyway.

The hunter lingered for a moment in the giant doorway, but then walked inside the grand hall of the hotel without hesitation and maneuvered through the crowd of well-dressed men and women to the front desk.

“Hi, I would like a room for one night.” Dean gave the receptionist a suave smile and handed her his credit card.

“Of course, Mr. Page.” After five long minutes, the receptionist finally handed him the plastic keycard and pointed him to the elevators. 

Dean found his room easily enough. After fiddling with the switch for way longer than he’d like to admit, he managed to turn on the lights in the living room of the suite. The hunter grabbed his phone out of his pocket and checked it for one more time. 25 missed calls from Sam, 24 from Castiel, 10 messages that were variations of “call me” and “don’t do anything stupid” from both of them. Dean sighed, then tossed the phone to the ground and stepped on it, crashing it to pieces. He wouldn’t need it anymore.

“Alright, let’s do this,” announced Dean to an empty room. “Michael, I need to talk to you. I’m in Mitchell, Hotel Lizania, room 664. Get your asshere.” 

The floor trembled beneath him as he said the last word. Dean shielded his eyes against the sparks that were flying from the bursting lamps. The lights flickered and went out and when Dean opened his eyes again, there was a figure in the dark corner of the room.

“Dean, what a pleasure” stated the figure, not even turning around.

“Michael,” growled Dean, clutching the angel blade harder.

“You do know that that pig-poker won’t kill me?” The figure turned out and stepped out of the shadows. It was the first time Dean could get a good look at the newest vessel of the archangel. This time it was a young woman, aged no more than 25 with chestnut skin and flowing wavy ash black locks. Dean’s heart shattered into a thousand pieces when he thought that if the archangel stays in her for even a day longer, she’s going to die in agony, just like all the others did before her.

“I’m not here to kill you,” stated the hunter with a traitorous break in his voice.

Michael smiled, lifting his brow. “Interesting. “

“I see you already skipped vessels,” Dean waved the blade slightly in the direction of Michael. The latter laughed. 

“My little Houdini act with Jody required power, power that ruined my old vessel. Fortunately there are a lot of folks who can’t wait to offer themselves up for Heavenly deeds.”

“Wow, very heavenly,” Dean stated sarcastically, “You killed no one knows how many innocent people”

Michael scoffed. “I know you didn’t come all the way here just to say this. Why are you here, Dean?”

“I wanna make a deal.” Dean adjusted the grip on the blade and stared into the archangel’s eyes. “I want you to stop killing people, people close to me and I want you to stop burning out vessels. I also want you to promise me that you won’t come after my family.”

Michael furrowed his brows. “Sounds like a great deal of trouble. What’s in it for me?’

“I-“ Dean felt the words stuck in his throat- “I am gonna say yes to you.”

Michael appeared genuinely surprised. “Well, that’s quite a plot twist. You want to be my vessel?”

Dean gritted his teeth. “Yes. But keep in mind your end of the deal.”

“Consider it done. If I have you, the need to constantly change vessels becomes redundant.”

“Then I am willing to be your vessel,” said Dean, looking him dead in the eye.

“And you won’t resist? Won’t try to constantly expel me?”

Dean shook his head. Michael hissed slightly, and with snake-like movements he moved closer to the hunter. “Are you, Dean Winchester, willing to be my vessel, absolutely and indefinitely?”

Dean closed his eyes. “Yes.” Then he thought about all the vessels Michael burned out and all the people he killed to get to him, about  _ Jody.  _ “Yes,” he repeated.

Michael smiled. “Attaboy.” His vessel closed her eyes and lit up with divine blue light, as Michael’s grace exited her body.

Dean squinted at the sight of glowing grace as he felt his heartbeat accelerating. He wanted to say something, but felt a sharp pain in his head as he caught a glimpse of a blue flash around him and everything faded to black.

_ Dean found himself to be sitting in darkness on a white armchair. At least this time it wasn’t drowning. Dean exhaled loudly and clasped his hands over his head, rocking slightly and wondered when he will begin to feel claustrophobic in his own mind. _

_ “I can’t believe it.” _

_ Dean turned around, startled by his own voice. Behind him, surrounded by darkness, stood the archangel, just like he appeared in his visions - wearing his face. _

_ “Can’t believe what, you son of a bitch?” growled Dean. _

_ Michael smirked and strolled around Dean to take a seat in an identical armchair that appeared opposite Dean.  _ _   
_ _ “I can’t believe you actually broke.” _

_ Dean furrowed his brows. “Ah, eh- what?” _

_ Michael smiled. “This-” he gestured vaguely around- “is my endgame. You are my endgame.” _

_ Dean’s mouth opened slightly in a small gasp. “What?” _

_ “The only thing I was occupied with since leaving you was making you my vessel again. Only this time, I wanted to make it for real, I wanted you to ask me to possess you. I wanted you to break.” _ _   
_ _ Dean felt his breathing become rapid and shallow. He knew where this was going. _

_ “So I left a piece of me in you. It haunted you from within.” _

_ The voices, realised Dean. _

_ “Orchestrated all these events - the cashier, burned out vessels, that vamp nest, Mills, even cracked your soul, that took a lot of power - just to get you to realise that I am the only way out. And it worked.” _ _   
_ _ “No…” Dean slowly slid down the back rest of the armchair in disbelief. He thought he was saving someone. _

_ “It all comes down to this.” Michael smiled with a tight-lipped smile. _

_ In the next moment, Dean was left one-on-one with the darkness of his mind. “NO!” yelled the hunter, but there was no one around to hear. _

“Sam! Sam wake up!” Castiel’s hoarse voice tore the hunter out of his state of unconsciousness. Sam’s eyes flung wide open, as he, startled, flinched and by reflex stood up. Judging by the dizziness and his near blackout, he stood up too fast. He groaned and sat back down, Castiel towering above him.

“Yeah, yeah.” He rubbed the nape of his neck, trying to ease his headache and then it hit him. “Where’s Dean?” Sam frantically looked around.

The angel shrugged. “He wasn’t here when I got here after your text.”   
“Oh god.” Sam’s breathing got shallow. “That idiot.”

Castiel furrowed his brows. “What are you talking about?”

“He’s gonna say yes. I- I tried to stop him and he knocked me out-” Sam ran his hand through his hair. 

“Hey, hey!” Castiel kneeled beside Sam. “Why is he going to say yes?”   
“He thinks that what happened to Jody is his fault.” 

Castiel exhaled loudly. “Shit.”

“I’ll track his phone, we need to get moving.” Sam groaned and limped towards the exit of the hospital room, throwing one last look at Jody. “Let’s go.”

* * *

Sam had never seen Castiel drive that fast. “Take a left,” he said to the angel as the enormous building with neon letters “Hotel Lizania” came into view. Sam glanced at his laptop. “He’s inside.” 

The younger Winchester started to get out of the car, but Castiel stopped him. “Sam, wait.”

“Cas, we gotta go-”   
“What if Michael is already possessing Dean?” asked the angel.

Sam pressed his lips together and, after a second of hesitation, opened his jacket, revealing an archangel blade tucked away in its secret pocket. 

“Took it from Lucifer in the church. If Nick showed anything, it’s that the blade doesn’t kill the vessel, just the archangel inside. We gank the son of the bitch.”

Castiel stared at the blade then nodded. He didn’t like the plan, but it wasn’t like they had a choice.

After flashing an FBI badge at the receptionist and throwing a photo of Dean in her face, Sam and Castiel were finally standing in front of the hotel room 664. They exchanged nods and Sam cautiously opened the door, slowly walking inside, Castiel following him.

“Sam, Castiel. How lovely of you to come. I knew you’d do that. ”

Sam froze inside at the sound of the familiar voice. 

Dean - no, Michael - slowly turned around from the window. He was already wearing that old fashioned suit and that hideous hat. 

“Michael.” Sam stared into his brother’s eyes, seeing nothing but darkness inside.

“Back up and running.” The archangel smirked.

Sam tilted his head. “Why’d you wait?”

Michael’s lips stretched out in resemblance of a smile. “Why, to kill you, of course. You’ve been a problem to me for a very long time, think it’s time to fix that. I knew you’d come running for your precious Dean, so I just set the trap and waited.”

Sam and Castiel exchanged glances as the latter slowly adjusted his grip on the archangel blade, narrowing his eyes. “Let Dean go.”

Michael raised his brows. “Oh no, see, he asked for this. Now I can do whatever I want and you and your little knife -” Michael nodded towards the archangel blade- “won’t be able to stop me. Am I surprised that you have it? Yes. Does it change anything? Absolutely not.”

“We’ll see about that,” growled Castiel and charged forward. 

The angel swung a punch, but the archangel quickly dodged it, sending Castiel flying head first into the opposite wall, knocking him out.    
“This suit feels good,” said Michael as his gaze fixated on Sam. “Let’s take it for a ride, shall we?”

Michael leapt forward, knocking Sam off his feet, causing the hunter to lose the blade. It clattered on the floor 2 meters away from Sam. The hunter threw a couple punches but they were useless against the archangel. One more precise kick from Michael and Sam ended up against the wall, with a couch over him. The hunter yelled out in pain.

Michael gave Sam a tight-lipped smile. He slowly walked up to the struggling hunter, his footsteps monotone and menacing. Sam didn’t know that his brother’s footsteps could sound so… foreign.

“Sam, the last thing you’ll see will be this pretty smile.” Michael smiled and raised his blade, preparing to stab Sam with it, but was interrupted by the sound of Castiel’s voice from behind.

“Walk away from this, you son of a bitch.” The angel raised the archangel blade and forced it down the archangel’s stomach.

He never saw it coming. Michael, the mighty archangel, who overpowered countless foes and had foreseen events of great destruction and power and had many ideas about the way he would die, never could imagine that he would be overpowered by an ordinary angel with burned out wings, who was corrupted by humanity  _ and love _ . He looked with horror at the blade stuck in his abdomen just for a second and then lit up from inside (like a damn Christmas tree, a macabre thought crept into Sam's head as he watched it) and Dean, now free of the archangel, collapsed.

Castiel rushed to Dean, who lay unconscious on the floor and hastily pressed two fingers to his forehead. “He’ll live,” he announced with relief.

Sam heaved a sigh of relief and relaxed against the couch that was pressing him against the wall. It was over.

It has been one of the best traditions of Dean Winchester to start his day with the great phrase “oh crap”. 

“Oh crap,” murmured the hunter and opened his eyes, groaning. He was met with an unfriendly sterile smell and disgustingly white walls, illuminated by cold light from the window. 

“Dean!” Dean’s blurry vision registered a big object moving towards him, an object that turned out to be Sam. He felt his brother’s warm arms wrap around him.

“You idiot.” Sam’s voice was shaky and crackling, but at the same time relieved. “You absolute idiot. What were you thinking?”

Dean raised his weak arm and slightly patted Sam’s back. “He would’ve come… for you. And Cas…”

The older Winchester’s vision finally came into focus and the first thing he saw was Sam’s confused face.

“And you buffoon decided to become his vessel? Like that would stop him?”

“I made a deal…” muttered Dean.

Sam rolled his eyes. “No more deals, okay, Dean? We can overcome everything that comes our way without any deals and self sacrifice shit. We always do.”

Dean nodded slightly, his mind still dizzy from the meds. “What happened?” he asked quietly. “After I got-”

“Possessed?” Sam finished the phrase for him. “We came, we fought, Cas stabbed Michael with an archangel blade. Son of a bitch is dead, you’re left with a blade wound. Cas couldn’t heal you up, so here you are, in a hospital, healing up the old way.”

“Cas!” Dean said loudly, remembering about the angel. His eyes searched the room for the angel, but he was nowhere to be found. “Where is he?”   
“Here.” Castiel walked into the room with a tilted head and a squint. 

“Thank you.” Dean smiled at the angel. “For killing the bastard.”

One corner of Castiel’s mouth crept up as a spark lit up in his eyes. “Never do that again,” he simply said. 

“I’m sorry, guys. I screwed up,” Dean admitted, “Big time screwed up.” He scrubbed a hand over his tired face, swallowed thickly, his voice clouded with regret, "I'm so sorry."

Sam and Castiel exchanged glances. “We have our issues,” said Sam.

Castiel tilted his head, remembering Sam saying the exact same phrase earlier.

“At the end of the day, however, we’re family,” continued the younger hunter. “And it doesn’t matter whether everything is okay, it doesn’t matter whether we’re winning or losing, we’ll get through it all. Together. So no more secrets, no more deals, no more sacrifices. Just us against the crap in this world.” Sam dryly laughed.

Dean smiled hesitatingly and mouthed “Okay.” And as sunshine shone through the window on Sam’s and Castiel’s faces, causing both of them to squint adorably, Dean felt like he hadn’t felt in a very long time. Happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Please do leave kudos and comments, they help me to stay motivated and write! Please no negative or harsh critique comments!


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